


an unlikely cupid

by geralehane



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, ouija board au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8454565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geralehane/pseuds/geralehane
Summary: Raven and Clarke get drunk and accidentally summon Lexa the old and powerful deity who's also hopelessly, helplessly gay. or, the one where Lexa and Clarke live happily ever after.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i laughed way too much when i wrote this and i also write this in like an hour so excuse my mistakes pls and thank

If Clarke has ever learned anything in life, it would be two things. One: most ideas Raven comes up with are surprisingly idiotic, considering her brilliance. Two: Drunk Clarke never agrees with anything Sober Clarke thinks, and Raven’s ideas being idiotic is not an exception.

 

In fact, Drunk Clarke loves Raven’s ideas. Which is exactly how the two of them find themselves in their dorm at two-fifty five in the morning, spilling whiskey all over a wooden board Raven found in her grandma’s attic last weekend.

 

A wooden Ouija board, to be precise.

 

Sober Clarke told Raven to burn it down. Drunk Clarke giggles and snatches it from her hands, eagerly looking it over. “How do we know it works?”

 

“Fuck if I know,” is her answer as Raven takes a huge swig straight from the bottle, wincing at the strong burn. “We place our fingers on this small thing and hope for the best.”

 

“That’s what she said,” Clarke hiccups. “You ready? We ready?”

 

Raven’s enthusiastic nod and the splash of whiskey from the bottle notify her that everyone is more than ready. “Alright,” Clarke says. “Wait, why are we doing this, again?”

 

“Cause Halloween, man,” Raven loudly lets her know, nodding at her own words.

 

“Oh.” Clarke thinks for a minute. “True.” She squints at the board. “Is it okay that we spilled whiskey on it?”

 

Raven nods.

 

“Is it okay if I lick it off?”

 

Raven nods again.

 

So Clarke does. She drools a little on it, right in the center, but she’s too drunk to care, so she simply wipes it away.

 

“Hot,” her friend comments with a wide, sloppy grin. “Okay. Gimme those sausages, Griffin.”

 

“Hey!” Clarke makes two fists, hiding her fingers. “Fuck you. They are not sausages. They are magnificent.”

 

“As someone who bangs chicks, you’d think you’d learn to appreciate the gift from gods.”

 

“I’d trade them for a girlfriend,” Clarke says. “Or Cheetos. I’m hungry.”

 

“Quit dicking around and let’s do this.”

 

Clarke doesn’t voice another _that’s what she said_ , but she makes damn sure Raven gets her train of thought when she waggles her eyebrows at her.

 

//

 

All Lexa wanted was to come back to her plane of existence and climb in a bathtub. That’s literally all she wanted. She doesn’t even particularly cares if there’s going to be water in it. She just likes the concept. Sometimes, humans have the best ideas.

 

Everything is giving her a headache that day. It’s like the whole universe with every world in it have decided to band together against her. Well. That’s Halloween for her. Despite it becoming a largely commercial holiday, no one cancelled Samhain just because humans decided they wanted to be a Joker once a year.

 

Vile creature, that man – and she says that as someone who’s viewed as demonic. She’s not actually a demon – that’s common misconception. She’s just an old goddess. Humans know a lot of her names, and none of them can even begin to imagine that she’s the one behind those faces, portrayed grim, evil, and, most offensively, male.

 

Lexa sighs. Her Hades days were certainly the most fun, but the tale’s been twisted so much she’s not sure she enjoys those memories quite in the same way. Oh well. Samhain is almost over. She can finally kick back and relax in a hot tub and maybe open up a bottle of ambrosia she saved for a special occasion. And what could be more special than a night of self-care?

 

Now, Lexa never considered herself particularly lucky. Mostly because Luck and her had a brief affair that did not end well, and she’s been mildly cursed ever since. Nothing she can’t live with, of course – but just a tad inconvenient. She’s certainly learned to cherish small blessings. That’s why, when she feels a tell-tale tug in her gut before being hurled back to a dimension she’s just left, she’s not even surprised. She simply whispers a quick thank you that she hasn’t taken her clothes off yet.

 

With that, she sighs and lets herself be whisked away back to Earth, wondering  with scientific curiosity who could have possibly found out the summoning spell.

 

//

 

“I’m pretty sure you’re doing it wrong.”

 

“This seems like a ‘that’s what she said’ moment, but I assure you, she’s never said that.”

 

Raven blinks. Reaches for the bottle and pouts when she finds it empty. “Who is _she_ , anyway?”

 

“Fuck if I know,” Clarke repeats Raven’s words from earlier. “And I’m not doing anything wrong. You’re supposed to move this thing,” she gestures to the heart-shaped piece of wood, with a hole in the middle of it that she looks through at Raven.

 

“Maybe there’s an instruction or something,” Raven mutters, grabbing the planchette. Clarke resists and tugs it back, resulting in Raven’s forehead colliding with her mouth. Hard.

  
  
“Shit!” Clarke exclaims when a droplet of blood falls onto the board from her now-split lip. “Raven, what the fuck?”

 

Her friend only shrugs apologetically. Not even apologetically. In fact, she doesn’t even shrug. “You’re doing it wrong,” she says.

 

“I do everything right,” Clarke argues, taking the planchette back. “Sit and watch. And prepare for an I told you so.”

 

//

 

Lexa blinks when the spinning finally stops and she’s rematerialized in what appears to be a room in a college dormitory. That alone surprises her more than anything that’s happened today. Surely, a college student couldn’t have known all the steps necessary to complete a ritual.

 

“…prepare for an I told you so,” she catches and turns in the direction of the voice, squinting. English. American English, to be exact. Things are taking an interesting turn. She was expecting a bunch of men unsatisfied with life and recent feminist movement. Not two drunk college girls.

 

She comes closer to get a better look at them, and no, she’s definitely not prepared for what she sees. And what she sees is an angel. An actual angel with a bloody lip and unfocused gaze and a strong alcoholic smell. An angel with blonde tresses and bluest eyes.

 

Lexa can’t stop herself from letting out the smallest, softest gasp.

 

She’s immensely grateful for her ability to be invisible.

 

She’s frozen in place, eyes taking in every inch of the girl’s body when that same voice – and oh, what a voice it is! – addresses the room, husky and low. “Is anyone here with us?”

 

Lexa takes a deep breath, rubs her suddenly cold hands, and hesitantly steps forward, placing her own fingers on the wooden planchette and shakily dragging it to the word “yes”.

 

//

 

“Raven!” Clarke yelps, jumping from the board. “Raven, I did it!”

 

Raven, however, does not share her enthusiasm. “Yeah,” she says blankly. “I saw you move it.”

 

“No, see, see,” with fast slurred speech and disheveled hair, Clarke more closely resembles a maniac than a bright daughter of two respected surgeons. “I didn’t – Raven,” she gasps, happy she finally gets a good reason to pause for a dramatic effect. “I didn’t move it,” she finishes in a loud whisper.

 

Raven stares at her. And stares. And stares some more before she starts to chuckle, slowly at first. Soon, it escalated into a continuous giggling. “Sure, Clarke,” she manages to say. “I believe you.”

 

“But I’m telling the truth!” Clarke gets suddenly upset. Why doesn’t Raven believe her?

 

“And I’m marrying Finn tomorrow. Get real, Griff.” The planchette hits Raven’s forehead as soon as she’s finished talking.

 

“See!”

 

Clarke’s triumphant yell pales in contrast with Raven’s terrified scream.

 

//

 

That is very, very loud. Lexa does not like loud.

 

Unless Clarke likes loud. Then she loves loud.

 

Right now, however, it’s starting to become a little extreme. So she sighs and waves her hand, silencing the girl whose name is Raven. She has to admit – watching her try to scream silently is mildly amusing.

 

But then it scares Clarke, too. “Who’s here? Who’s doing this?”

 

She sighs again. Then, she makes her voice audible so that Clarke can hear you. “You have noting to fear. My name is Lexa. I will give your friend her voice back, but only if she promises not to scream.”

 

After Raven’s rigorous nodding, Lexa waves her hand again, and the girl coughs, eyes wide and expression sober. “Who – who are you?!”

 

“Oh,” Lexa says, because she hasn’t really thought things this far. “I have many names and positions. I believe you know me as the devil, but I promise you, I’m vastly different from that portrayal.”

 

Raven blinks. “Did she just say she’s Satan?”

 

“I think so,” Clarke whispers back, and Lexa freezes again, watching the way she presses her lips together. How is she so beautiful?

 

“Does Satan really expect me to believe she’s, what, nice?”

 

“Well, yes,” Lexa speaks up. “That would be a polite thing to do.”

 

“Oh hell no,” Raven says. “I don’t play with demons,” she announces, despite the fact that it’s exactly what she’s been doing for the past half an hour. “If you’re nice, tell us how to get rid of you.”

 

Now it’s Lexa’s turn to blink. “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she says apologetically. Then her eyes widen with realization. “Oh! You meant get me to leave this room?”

 

“Yeah. Exactly. How do we do that?”

 

“Oh, you – you don’t. I can come and go as I please now. That’s the whole point of the summoning spell.”

 

Clarke and Raven look at each other, eyes wide. “The what now?!”

 

//

 

So turns out that while Luck and Lexa are not exactly pals, Fate definitely favors her. Through a series of events that they can’t exactly deem either fortunate or unfortunate just yet, Clarke and Raven manage to accidentally summon one of the most powerful beings known to man. And that being just happens to fall head over heels for Clarke.

 

Raven finds it weird. Clarke finds it sweet. And Fate – well, Fate doesn’t find it impossible.

 

“Lexa, dear,” she mumbles around a thin cigarette while Lexa broods all over her realm, having just come back from Earth after yet another night with Clarke, full of talking and laughing and soft unspoken confessions on both ends. “Just take some time off and spend a life with that girl. She’ll join you after it’s over anyway. What’s seventy years to you? A blink of an eye. Besides, have you forgotten how fun it is to grow old?”

 

So Lexa sighs, fishes the best outfit she has out of her memory, and goes back to earth wearing her corporeal form and a pale blue oxford shirt with sleeves rolled up. She faintly recalls Clarke liking that.

 

In hindsight, waiting for Clarke in her room might not have been her best idea, but can she be blamed, really? She got used to it. She just kinda forgot she wasn’t visible all previous times she’s been there.

 

Clarke walks through her door a moment later, eyes on her phone. “Lexa, I’m home!” she calls out, not looking up as she kicks her shoes off. “You here? Le- Jesus fucking Christ!”

 

Lexa never particularly liked the man, but the profanity still makes her wince. “Hello, Clarke.”

 

“Holy shit,” Clarke exhales, pressing a hand to her chest and bending to retrieve her phone that fell out of her grip when she jumped in fright upon finding a stranger sitting on her bed. “Who are you? Damn it, Raven. I told her to always let me kno- wait a minute.” She stops, blinking. “I know that voice.”

 

Lexa feels her lips stretch in a smile. It’s an incredible feeling. “Hello, Clarke.” She repeats, rising to her feet and offering her a giant bouquet she retrieves from thin air.

 

“Oh God,” Clarke whispers, rapidly blinking sudden tears away. “Lexa. Oh my God.”

 

“Well, technically, yes,” Lexa says, “but we can skip the formalities.”

 

Clarke’s warm, solid body slams into hers next, and she huffs in surprise, falling down on Clarke’s bed with the girl on top of her, clinging to her. “Lexa,” Clarke sobs. “You’re here. It’s you. You’re here.”  

 

“Yes,” she confirms. “I’m here. It’s me.”

 

Clarke’s lips on hers feel better than anything she’s ever experienced, and she’s been around for a little longer than eternity. “I can’t believe I’m holding you in my arms,” Clarke whispers when they part, breathing ragged. “You’re so real. So warm, too. Is that – is that how you really look like?”

 

“Yes,” she gives another affirmative. “I’m not wearing someone’s body. We’ve been over this.”

 

“I know,” Clarke chuckles. “I’m just checking.”

 

She trails a finger down Lexa’s cheek, slow and tender. Lexa sees the unspoken question in her eyes. She answers with no hesitation. “I’m here to stay. For as long as you want me.”

 

“Then that means you’re stuck with me forever.”

 

Lexa laughs. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Although I do believe it’s the other way around. Clarke, I…” she swallows, and Clarke smoothes her thumb over the skin of her throat where it bobs. “If you ever decide to end our – this, I’ll understand. But I’m afraid I’m a little different.”

 

“Lexa,” Clarke coos, shushing her. She’s still roaming her hands all over her body, and it’s way less sexual than it sounds. She’s simply _feeling_ Lexa. And Lexa’s completely okay with that. “When I said forever, I knew who I was talking to you. It’s not just a word anymore.” She leans in, pressing another kiss to Lexa’s lips. “For us, it’s a reality.”

 

Lexa’s heart soars when she says ‘ _for us_.’ It jumps and stops and restarts, beating so fast she’s afraid it’ll jump out of her chest.

 

“A reality,” she whispers. “I like the sound of that.”

 

“And I like your face.” Clarke squints. “You didn’t tell me you were this hot.”

 

“I’ve exited for millions of years, Clarke,” Lexa reminds her. “I do not have an opinion on beauty, because it is as made up as it is subjective.”

 

“A concept can’t be made up and subjective at the same time.”

 

“Let me correct myself, then. I used to think it was made up.” Her smile grows. “Then I met you.”

 

“You’re so getting lucky tonight, I hope you know that.” Soft lips capture hers, and Lexa gloats.

 

Suck on this, Luck.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> check out [my website](http://geralehane.com/) for more of my works!
> 
> and follow me on:   
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> 
> enjoy your read!


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